


Allowance

by awrenawry



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Prostitution, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awrenawry/pseuds/awrenawry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk knows what he needs to succeed, and what he has to do to get it. This isn't the first time, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allowance

The door slid open when he put his hand to it. He stepped inside.

"Cadet Kirk," Professor T’singad greeted him from the sideboard. "I was expecting you nearly half an hour ago."

Kirk had spent most of that half hour in the lavatory, running the water to hide his inactivity and tracing the outline of a different life in the mirror. "Sorry, Professor."

The Professor held out a tumbler of amber liquid. His hands were gnarled with age, although he stood tall and straight, still, without the stoop of old age. Those hands had commanded a starship, once. They did not yet shake.

"You were friends with my father," Kirk said. He did not reach for the glass.

The professor set the drink on the sideboard, careless for the ring the condensation might leave on the antique wooden finish, and gestured for Kirk to seat himself in the room beyond. "Some might have said that."

Kirk chose a mustard-colored divan that put him with his back not quite to the door. The fabric was rough to the touch. He could feel the prickle of it through his uniform. He supposed it, too, was an antique.

"If you're here about your father, may is suggest visiting Professor Smith in Psychology, instead?"

He ran his hands down the fabric of his thighs to wipe away the sheen of nervous sweat. He knew how these things worked in other times and other places, but here... Starfleet was all shining ideals and airy corridors of steel and glass. He wasn’t sure there was a place for this. For him.

"I need money," Kirk admitted.

"Run through your scholarship already, have you?" The professor took a sip of his own drink and lowered himself into a club chair on the other side of the room. Only the roaring fireplace was missing, Kirk thought, to make this one of those horrid period dramas Bones loved to watch.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Kirk asked.

The professor waved his hand. "Granted."

"I want command." Kirk paused. "Command takes connections, and connections take money."

"You expect me to pay for you to bribe your way onto the bridge of a starship?"

"No, sir.” He said. “But if I hope to have these men and women under my command someday, I have to earn their respect now. I can’t do that if I can’t even buy them a drink. You understand, I'm sure. You were assigned to the Yamada very young. The scholarship covers my room and board. Nothing more."

The silence strung out between them. The professor rose and paced a triangle between the sideboard, the door, and the divan where Kirk sat. Kirk stifled the urge to let his eyes follow the movement. He sat perfectly still, looking down at the carpet even as he felt the professor's gaze run over his body. It was difficult, under that familiar gaze, not to fall into his old habits.

"You are not nearly as stupid as you'd like us to believe." The professor said at last.

Quietly. "No, sir."

“You have much of your father's look about you, you know." Kirk couldn't help but flinch. "Pike was always tripping over his feet to get George to notice him. He'd loan you whatever you wanted for a smile."

"I don't like debts. The scholarship is enough."

"And how did you think to pay me back?"

Kirk let his legs fall open and lifted his gaze, finally, to the professor's face. The mirror above the sideboard showed him the angle of his chin, the line of his neck, the expanse of smooth hollowed skin slipping beneath his rumpled uniform. He licked his lips. "You have a reputation, sir."

The professor smirked. He rose, stepped close, and twisted his fingers through Kirk's hair, pulling him forward hard and fast. Kirk pressed his face to the professor's crotch and felt there, under the thick uniform, a hard heat. He raised his hands to the closure--willed them not to shake--and had it half undone before the professor's hand came to rest over his own, stilling them. This was the reason he'd chosen this man above the others, above Pike. "Are you sure?" T’singad asked.

"It's nothing I haven't done before." Kirk whispered. His breath was hot against the regulation fabric and the old man thrust back against him. He lifted the confining hand.

The professor fucked his mouth hard, pushing in and lifting back until his throat was raw and his thighs ached where they pressed into the fabric to hold himself steady. His breath came in shallow pants between thrusts. That was okay. He liked it that way, really.

The professor came without warning. He grunted and pulled Kirk forward till only the backs of his knees brushed the divan. Then he pulled away and tucked himself neatly back into his uniform.

Kirk wiped at his swollen lip and kept his eyes on the pattern in the carpet. He worked to catch his breath.

"Come back next month," the professor said. He lifted the now-lukewarm glass of liquor from the sideboard and drained it.

Kirk nodded, not yet willing to trust his voice. There would be a credit to his account, made discreetly. Likely, it would clear before he even made it back to his room.

"You can show yourself out."

Kirk caught the other man's expression in the mirror. He knew that twist of lips. It said, _James Tiberius Kirk, you are not as smart as you think you are._ He'd seen that look a thousand times on a thousand different faces. It said, _We don't give command to whores._

Here, now, Kirk did not answer that smile with one of his own. Instead, he rose, put his hands in his pockets, and silently turned to go.

He did not say, "But you will be retired before the council votes me a ship and you said it yourself: George Kirk's son can have Captain Pike for a smile."


End file.
